All or Nothing at All
Page 29
Eventually they stopped giving him a hard time. The months drifted into almost a year, and he and Syd were still going strong. Tristan didn’t like to think about it or classify what they had. Yes, she was young. Yes, sometimes they fell into ridiculous arguments because she was jealous of every other woman he talked to. Yes, she was insecure, and sometimes clung a bit too hard despite her guise of not caring.
But then his mom had died, and everything had changed. He was floating out there in space with no anchor to Earth, and for the first time, he was scared of who he was becoming.
There’d always been a coldness deep within him, an ability to shut himself off from the world to avoid messy emotions. But lately he’d been living in that place. His mother had always been able to pull him out.
So had Sydney.
As he stared down into her face, she did the only thing he needed in that moment.
She said no words of inane comfort. She reached up, gathered him in her arms, and held him. He leaned his cheek against the top of her head, breathing in the scent of orange blossoms while he soaked up the warmth of her body heat. Her fingers stroked the nape of his neck, and she whispered low murmurings of nonsense into his ear.
The block of ice trembled, and chips began to fall away.
“Why? Why did she betray us all, Syd?”
“I don’t know. All I know is she’s been unhappy with your dad for a long time. But I swear to you on everything I know and believe, Tristan, she was coming back to you.”
“She never said anything to you? Not a word about this guy she was seeing on the side?”
“No, nothing. I knew she was going to an art class she loved, but that’s all. I didn’t know about the teacher.”
“She said nothing to us about this man. She had no return ticket. She was going to lose herself in Paris and forget her sons.”
She yanked her head back from his chest, stood on tiptoe, and met his gaze with a fierceness that took his breath away. “She was coming back,” Sydney repeated. “I know Diane, and you were everything to her. If you believe only one thing, you must believe me.”
He stared at her for a long time and found only a knowledge and resolve that eased some of the tightness in his gut. The words spilled from him in all their raw, awful, naked truth. “I’m so lost, Syd. I don’t what to do anymore.”
Her eyes shone with tears. “You’re going to believe what I tell you, Tristan. She was coming back.”
Every time she repeated the phrase, he seemed to believe it more. His head spun, and his heart ached, and with a low groan, he dipped his head, desperate to feel alive again.
She welcomed his tongue, clung to his shoulders, and kissed him back full force. Slowly the kiss grew to something bigger, until they were ripping away clothes, falling on each other with a vicious hunger they needed to sate. Her hands burned on his skin as she fisted his throbbing length, lowered her head, and took him deep in her mouth. He threw his head back in surrender, loving the scrape of her teeth, the wet cave of her mouth sucking him tight, the slow lick of her tongue.
He reached down in a frenzy, picking her up and laying her out on the bed. Parting her thighs, he donned a condom and slid deep within her hot, swollen folds, burying himself balls-deep, taking her completely.
She cried out. Biting down on her lip, she seemed to try to fight him off, but he plundered her lips, sinking his tongue as deep as his cock, chaining her to the bed, chaining her to him.
“No, tonight I need all of you, baby. Give me all of you,” he grated against her mouth.
His words caused her to tremble wildly, but then her muscles relaxed, and her hips arched for more. With a low growl of satisfaction, he pulled out in one slow slide, then pounded back into her with a ruthless desperation he couldn’t control.
She matched him thrust for thrust, not only giving him everything she had but demanding everything from him. He fucked her and made love to her in a way he never had before, opening himself up to every delicious sensation wrecking his body and mind, until she screamed her release, shuddering underneath him, and he allowed himself to let go.
His orgasm burst through him. Her name ripped from his lips in a curse and a prayer. His body shook helplessly in the grip of the most intense pleasure of his life, going on and on, until he was emptied completely.
He didn’t remember how long it took him to pull out and roll to the side. A strange ache filled him up, traveling through his body like wildfire, and he gripped her arms, gazing into her beautiful face, which was filled with so much love he was instantly humbled.
“I love you, Tristan Pierce,” she whispered, stroking his cheek. “And I will always be here for you when you need me.” There was nothing in her voice but calm certainty and the need to give him everything he needed, with no thought as to what he was able to give back.
The block trembled and broke apart inside his chest.
He lowered his forehead to hers, and tears began slipping from his eyes as he finally cried for the first time since he’d heard the first love of his life had left him forever.
She stroked his hair and kissed his cheeks and held him through his tears. And he knew then that Sydney was part of his soul and had changed him forever.
chapter eight
They were holding hands. Sydney tried not to focus on the connection that hummed between them and felt completely right.
The early-spring recital revolved around a fairy tale, so each of the girls wore a colored tutu, taking her turn for a brief solo across the stage. When Becca came out in shimmery pink—her favorite color of all—her face radiant under the beaming lights, Sydney’s insides shifted and an overwhelming flow of love and pride held her in its grip.
It was always like this when she gazed at her daughter, but watching her grow and change in front of her was awe-inspiring. Her throat tightened and she grinned madly as Becca spun and floated to the music without error. Those were five of the happiest minutes in Sydney’s life.
Then it was over, and the other groups of dancers took their turns. When the lights came up, chaos erupted and she and Tristan quickly dropped hands. She tried to control the heat rising to her cheeks and blamed it on the stuffiness in the recital hall rather than the hand-holding.
She turned, ready to dive into organized-mom mode. “I have to go backstage and pick her up. I can’t thank you enough for— Why are you covered in pink sparkles?”
But then his mom had died, and everything had changed. He was floating out there in space with no anchor to Earth, and for the first time, he was scared of who he was becoming.
There’d always been a coldness deep within him, an ability to shut himself off from the world to avoid messy emotions. But lately he’d been living in that place. His mother had always been able to pull him out.
So had Sydney.
As he stared down into her face, she did the only thing he needed in that moment.
She said no words of inane comfort. She reached up, gathered him in her arms, and held him. He leaned his cheek against the top of her head, breathing in the scent of orange blossoms while he soaked up the warmth of her body heat. Her fingers stroked the nape of his neck, and she whispered low murmurings of nonsense into his ear.
The block of ice trembled, and chips began to fall away.
“Why? Why did she betray us all, Syd?”
“I don’t know. All I know is she’s been unhappy with your dad for a long time. But I swear to you on everything I know and believe, Tristan, she was coming back to you.”
“She never said anything to you? Not a word about this guy she was seeing on the side?”
“No, nothing. I knew she was going to an art class she loved, but that’s all. I didn’t know about the teacher.”
“She said nothing to us about this man. She had no return ticket. She was going to lose herself in Paris and forget her sons.”
She yanked her head back from his chest, stood on tiptoe, and met his gaze with a fierceness that took his breath away. “She was coming back,” Sydney repeated. “I know Diane, and you were everything to her. If you believe only one thing, you must believe me.”
He stared at her for a long time and found only a knowledge and resolve that eased some of the tightness in his gut. The words spilled from him in all their raw, awful, naked truth. “I’m so lost, Syd. I don’t what to do anymore.”
Her eyes shone with tears. “You’re going to believe what I tell you, Tristan. She was coming back.”
Every time she repeated the phrase, he seemed to believe it more. His head spun, and his heart ached, and with a low groan, he dipped his head, desperate to feel alive again.
She welcomed his tongue, clung to his shoulders, and kissed him back full force. Slowly the kiss grew to something bigger, until they were ripping away clothes, falling on each other with a vicious hunger they needed to sate. Her hands burned on his skin as she fisted his throbbing length, lowered her head, and took him deep in her mouth. He threw his head back in surrender, loving the scrape of her teeth, the wet cave of her mouth sucking him tight, the slow lick of her tongue.
He reached down in a frenzy, picking her up and laying her out on the bed. Parting her thighs, he donned a condom and slid deep within her hot, swollen folds, burying himself balls-deep, taking her completely.
She cried out. Biting down on her lip, she seemed to try to fight him off, but he plundered her lips, sinking his tongue as deep as his cock, chaining her to the bed, chaining her to him.
“No, tonight I need all of you, baby. Give me all of you,” he grated against her mouth.
His words caused her to tremble wildly, but then her muscles relaxed, and her hips arched for more. With a low growl of satisfaction, he pulled out in one slow slide, then pounded back into her with a ruthless desperation he couldn’t control.
She matched him thrust for thrust, not only giving him everything she had but demanding everything from him. He fucked her and made love to her in a way he never had before, opening himself up to every delicious sensation wrecking his body and mind, until she screamed her release, shuddering underneath him, and he allowed himself to let go.
His orgasm burst through him. Her name ripped from his lips in a curse and a prayer. His body shook helplessly in the grip of the most intense pleasure of his life, going on and on, until he was emptied completely.
He didn’t remember how long it took him to pull out and roll to the side. A strange ache filled him up, traveling through his body like wildfire, and he gripped her arms, gazing into her beautiful face, which was filled with so much love he was instantly humbled.
“I love you, Tristan Pierce,” she whispered, stroking his cheek. “And I will always be here for you when you need me.” There was nothing in her voice but calm certainty and the need to give him everything he needed, with no thought as to what he was able to give back.
The block trembled and broke apart inside his chest.
He lowered his forehead to hers, and tears began slipping from his eyes as he finally cried for the first time since he’d heard the first love of his life had left him forever.
She stroked his hair and kissed his cheeks and held him through his tears. And he knew then that Sydney was part of his soul and had changed him forever.
chapter eight
They were holding hands. Sydney tried not to focus on the connection that hummed between them and felt completely right.
The early-spring recital revolved around a fairy tale, so each of the girls wore a colored tutu, taking her turn for a brief solo across the stage. When Becca came out in shimmery pink—her favorite color of all—her face radiant under the beaming lights, Sydney’s insides shifted and an overwhelming flow of love and pride held her in its grip.
It was always like this when she gazed at her daughter, but watching her grow and change in front of her was awe-inspiring. Her throat tightened and she grinned madly as Becca spun and floated to the music without error. Those were five of the happiest minutes in Sydney’s life.
Then it was over, and the other groups of dancers took their turns. When the lights came up, chaos erupted and she and Tristan quickly dropped hands. She tried to control the heat rising to her cheeks and blamed it on the stuffiness in the recital hall rather than the hand-holding.
She turned, ready to dive into organized-mom mode. “I have to go backstage and pick her up. I can’t thank you enough for— Why are you covered in pink sparkles?”
